Drunken Splendor
by Wolvinheart
Summary: Dean has his first drink.


Dean glared at the frosted can sitting innocently on the table in front of him.

He wasn't scared dammit!

No. He, was, he was just. Damn.

Dad was out on a hunt, he wouldn't take Dean with him, saying twelve was too young for something like that.

He had left his beer behind and Dean had always wondered.

Wondered how something so simple could make his Dad the way he sometimes got, a couple more bottles littering floor and he was in that mode, where he stopped looking through all those stupid musty papers and he would glare out into the night, snapping at anyone who got near him.

So when Dean had been sure his he was gone, that Sammy was good and tucked in, fast asleep, he went into the broken freezer and got out the cold aluminum, setting out on the rickety table as he sat on the padded plastic chair, the kind that got real sticky and stuck to your skin on humid nights like this one.

The tacky silver contrasted with the stark white of the table, it was hurting his eyes.

He wanted to try it, but, what if he got like Dad? He didn't want Sammy waking up and getting scared when he saw that, he always got frightened when their dad got that way.

But how would he know if he didn't try?

Taking a deep breath and swallowing he reached out knobbly hands, grubby fingers closing in around the drink.

The cold numbed his hand, sent a jolt through his arm, up to his brain it seemed.

A silent urging of do it, don't.

Biting his lip in concentration, he brought it to them, taking a shallow sip.

And laughed at himself.

He was scared of this? It wasn't all that bad, sure, it burned a little going down, made his throat feel scratchy, but afterward, it was nice.

Kinda soothing.

He took a couple more gulps, deeper this time, feeling it pool in gut, warming it.

He was feeling tingly.

Dean giggled, growing voice cracking, making him laugh harder. Why'd his Dad get mean when he drank this? It was fun, twirly, twirly!

Spinning looked fun, yeah.

With a small burp he clamored off of the chair and headed to the freezer for more, spinning lightly as he went, near collapsing when he got back to the table with the drink, head feeling heavy.

He blinked, blinked some more, then opened the can, thumb catching the sharp edge, causing a trickle of blood to rise.

"Ow."

Frowning at the pooling red liquid, he brought it up to his mouth, sucking on it for a few seconds, tasting copper and dirt and something tangy before he took a sip of the frothing beer.

It tasted better now.

He jerked, tumbling out a his chair when a noise came from the doorway.

Crawling to all fours he put both hands on the plastic bottom of the chair, raising his head to just above the base, eyes wide.

Sammy was standing in the light of the hallway, blanket held tight in his hands, twisting it anxiously as he stared at Dean through liquid eyes.

Did his brother have a drink in his eyes? They were all shiny, scrambling he got up and went to the eight year old, towering over him as he looked into his eyes, before promptly turning to the side and throwing up.

Well, that burned.

He managed to glance up to see Sammy staring wide eyed at him, cautiously approaching to place a small, nervous hand on his back.

"Dean. Are you okay?"

Dean gave a small smile before going back to puking his guts out.

A minute later he managed to turn, scrunching up his face before spreading it out, eyes wide then closed, trying to adjust to the light, when'd it get so bright?

"S'all good, Sammy. Jus' trying some a Dad's beer."

Sam's eyes widened comically before he glared, smacking him in the back of the head with a solid hand.

Damn, when had his brother gotten so strong? Felt like he'd gotten hit with a sledgehammer.

Wincing, he reached up to rub that spot, glaring at his younger brother.

"What was that for?" Incredulous as he could be with vomit on his shirt, beer dribbling down his chin and hair messed up beyond all recognition.

Sam huffed and puffed, placing hands on sharp hips in a way that made Dean want to laugh.

"You're in big trouble Dean! Daddy gets real mad for even going near that stuff, what's he gonna do when he found out you drank it? Bad Dean!"

He snorted.

"I'm not a freakin' dog, Sammy, and Dad'll be fine, 'cause no one will tell him, right?"

Sam's expression remained stoic, an odd look on that boyish face, which turned even more so when a mischievous look glinted.

Dean didn't like it, even through his self induced haze, he knew he was in for trouble.

"I won't, on one condition."

Dean groaned, leaning his head on the door jam.

"What?"

"You have to perform swan lake, in a dress, tomorrow, and I get to take pictures with Daddy's camera."

Dean, after all, was only twelve, and was drunk, but he also never went back on a promise, never.

"Deal."

Now where in the hell would they find a dress?


End file.
